


Gifted

by outofthesun



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Blood and Injury, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hana/Saizo and Oboro/Subaki only mentioned, Magic, Mild Gore, Revelations Route, Romance, Sakura-centric, Training, mild depictions of violence, not graphic though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 13:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11784543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outofthesun/pseuds/outofthesun
Summary: Sakura could feel the magic under her skin for years. It takes a war, and a prince, for it to emerge. Revelations route, Leo/Sakura.





	Gifted

Not everyone has the gift of magic.

None of her siblings do; their affinities lie in strength, in wielding swords or a naginata or shooting an arrow dead centre instead of coaxing spirits out of scrolls. In stark contrast, the few times the friendly samurai in charge of training them all to be royals fit for the battlefield tried to teach her, the weapon, whatever it was, never seemed to sit quite right in her hands; never seemed to flow like Raijinto or the Fujin Yumi did for Ryoma and Takumi, nor was a naginata a natural extension of her arm like it was for Hinoka.

When Sakura politely asked to give up weapons training in favour of learning to become a shrine maiden – one who healed wounds instead of inflicting them – no one contested her. Instead of a weapon, she held a rod; instead of armour, she wore a priestess’s robes.

But secretly, Sakura thinks she might just have that one gift that her siblings don’t.

She watches Orochi practice with a Rat Spirit out in the courtyard and feels the magic thrum inside her, threatening to spill over. She visits the Wind Tribe on diplomatic business and sees the young boy, Hayato, call forth an Ox, and just for a moment, it feels like it’s calling to her. Even when she sees Queen Mikoto, not yet her mother, call forth a Dragon, shimmering with magical power, something tells her that one day, she might be able to do that too, with enough practice.

But she says nothing: she keeps her festal in hand, and keeps her desires hidden.

When she joins Corrin’s ragtag, rebel band a few years later, allied with neither Hoshido nor Nohr, the thought surfaces again. She thinks that maybe wielding a rod won’t be enough; that maybe she might have to bring herself to hurt as well as heal.

But no one else seems to think the same thing, not even Corrin, and Sakura still says nothing.

 

* * *

 

Sakura heals a lot of people. Corrin buys her Bloom Festals aplenty and their battles supply an endless tide of wounded. It feels strange watching her festal knit Nohrian flesh back together: Lady Camilla and her retainers join their cause not too long after her arrival, and its odd to watch them under her hands as she mends broken fingers, the odd scrape, magical wounds that fell the wyvern rider and the mercenary easily.

But she carries on nonetheless, and the experience she gains on the battlefield is valuable, in its own way. She feels herself getting stronger as she runs to stay out of range; as she’s bent over a fallen Corrin, whispering chants to get her older sister back fighting again; even as she takes enemy blows herself to protect an injured comrade, even unarmed and without the means to fight back.

Camilla regards her oddly after one such occasion as they lie in adjacent beds in the medical tent.

“Lady Sakura…” the Nohrian princess says sweetly. “Why did you take that dagger for my darling Beruka? You’re such a… _fragile_ little thing, it nearly felled you.”

Beruka… Sakura casts her mind back and recalls the blue-haired wyvern rider, practically expressionless even with the amount of blood she’d lost. Sakura had been healing her when they’d been accosted by a ninja hell-bent on finishing them both off. Thankfully, just after Sakura had taken the dagger to the shoulder, Kaze had swept in and cut down the enemy ninja so viciously that there was certainly no chance he would be felling any more of their number.

“S-she was injured already.” She explains haltingly, disliking the scrutiny. Beneath Princess Camilla’s syrupy sweet exterior is a will of iron: _not a woman to be trifled with_ , Sakura thinks nervously. “Even th-though I’m _fragile_ –“ she deliberately echoes the word “- I knew that the dagger would not kill me as it certainly would have done her.” She raises her gaze to meet Camilla’s, bolder now. “My j-job is to preserve life, L-Lady Camilla. As it s-stands, th-that includes you and your r-retainers.”

She thinks she catches a hint of approval in the other royal’s eyes.

 

* * *

 

Bandit skirmishes seem to be part and parcel of being in Corrin’s army, but this one had been particularly treacherous. Sakura is thankful when Subaki scoops her up onto his pegasus (Charity? Patience? The name escapes her; it’s some sort of virtue); she’s so tired that walking seems impossible.

It’s not long after their return to the astral plane, bloodied and bruised, that Corrin approaches with her trademark warm smile, and Sakura reflexively smiles back – even though her clothes still carry the blood from their last battle, even though she’s so weary that she knows as soon as she gets to bed she’ll fall asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow: Corrin’s cheeriness is infectiousness.

“Sakura,” the Vallite princess greets, looking as tired as Sakura feels, her cape even more torn than usual. Sakura has offered to darn it, or even to buy her sister a new cape, but Corrin is oddly attached to the current one. “I have a gift for you.”

She presses a seal into Sakura’s hands, and Sakura feels the magic of it thrum through her, just like the rat and the ox and the dragon spirits, though not the same.

“Choose what you like. I have about equal bow and tome users at the moment, so it’s up to you.”

And Sakura thinks of that magic whispering under her skin for years and years and despite the blood all over her robes, blood that’s not hers, she offers Corrin a genuine smile.

“Onmyouji. I-If that’s all right, of course…”

A few days later, the wounds from their skirmish fully healed, Corrin tells her that her tome training will start tomorrow, early, and that it might do her good to get a full night’s sleep.

Sakura can’t wait, and doesn’t sleep a wink.

 

* * *

 

The next morning she wakes early and takes a long walk around the camp to try and stave off her nerves. The astral plane is perpetually beautiful; it never seems to be anything but late spring there, everything constantly in bloom. Corrin has even put in some Hoshidan cherry blossoms, her namesake, next to a clutch of dark-looking trees from Nohr, and for a moment she observes the two sets, side by side, wondering as to her older sister’s intent, and whether it went beyond just décor.

The thought stays on her mind as she heads towards the training fields, but flies clear out of her head when she sees who’s waiting for her.

It seems Corrin has arranged for none other than Prince Leo ( _Prince Terrifying_ , whispers her brain traitorously) to train her in the art of magic.

“Lady Sakura,” he greets briskly, two tomes already in hand, in full armour compared to her loose training clothes. “I hope you are well, and ready for our session today.”

Sakura gulps (she can’t help it) and then hastily tries to make her mouth form words. Prince Leo is _frightening_ , dangerous in a way that puts her perpetually on edge in his presence. Elise, her lone proper friend amongst the Nohrians, tells her that while Leo might be sharp-tongued, he’s really quite nice at heart and that there’s nothing to worry about.

Sakura has yet to see any evidence that that’s the case.

“Y-yes! I’m w-well!”

He quirks an eyebrow.

“Are you quite sure? You look… ashen.”

“Oh y-yes, r-really…” she swallows, squares her shoulders. “I a-am… l-looking forward to learning from you.”

“As you say.” He doesn’t seem to believe her. Sakura isn’t a very good liar, and he’s not the type to be easily fooled: on the contrary, she sees his lips twist in frustration at the outright lie.

He hands her a basic Fire tome, and she traces the gold lettering on it absently, already feeling that thrum again, and feeling faintly encouraged, unsettled as she is.

After two hours, however, all sense of encouragement has left her – she’s produced barely anything more than a pile of smoke, and where the magic hasn’t yielded to her will it has left burns in its wake, hot and smarting. Prince Leo is surprisingly patient, though, covering her burns in salve after each failed attempt with a careful touch.

“You have to have confidence that it will work,” he tells her during one such application, and it’s not unkind the way she inwardly admits to expecting. “I can feel the magical potential radiating off you, so you have it in you. You just have to believe it. Bend the magic to your will; command it to obey you and nothing else.”

So she concentrates. She speaks each word with a precision that feels exceedingly unnatural, and vows to herself that this magic _will work -_

Sakura feels warmth start to trickle into her fingertips; first barely anything and then growing in intensity, almost like she’s touching a hot stove, the tome suddenly feels _alive_ , and then -

The fireball erupts from her hand and blasts a tree twenty feet away from the target.

And Prince Leo nods, and somehow, it feels like the highest praise she’s had in a while.

“You need to work on your aim,” he says, and Sakura can’t help it – she laughs.

 

* * *

 

Their lessons are tough.

Prince Leo is certainly a demanding teacher; beyond their draining practical sessions, there’s homework: endless books on magical lore and theory that he expects knowledge of, practicing her incantations each night without fail, and even pressure to start using what she’s learned in battle.

“You needn’t hang back so much now, Sakura.” Corrin tells her one evening in the mess. “Obviously healing should be your first priority, and please do evade danger as much as is possible, but Leo tells me you’re making good progress. If you think it’s appropriate, please take offensive action.”

And Leo nods over his plate of dodgy sashimi, giving her the tiniest of smiles.

So Sakura uses a Disrobing Gale tome in the next battle, and even though her voice shakes when she shouts out the incantation each time, the enemies fall in the wake of her newly released power time and time again, even though she only wields the tome to stop them getting to the injured she’s trying to tend to.

But even though Corrin praises her once they’ve routed all the bandits out of the little coastal town, Leo is less effusive.

“You need to be faster.” He tells her as they tread back to the royal section of the barracks. “You hesitate too much, and if you aren’t careful it’ll allow the enemy to get the first strike in. We’ve been fighting rather unintelligent bandits the past few battles, but a Vallite soldier won’t show a second’s pause when it aims its sword at you.”

“I u-understand,” she says. “I’ll p-practice.”

 

* * *

 

She practices.

She moves from Fire to Thunder, and the sparks are lethal: half of her clothes are covered in scorch marks.

Sometimes – though not always, now that she knows the basics – Prince Leo will watch her, demanding more skill, more precision. He consistently chastises her over her incantations, because apparently, Sakura’s quiet delivery is weakening the spells.

“You don’t incant with Brynhildr.” She observes quietly after one such lecture.

“Brynhildr is… special.” He looks strangely ill at ease at the question. “I had to at first. Now, not. However, Princess Sakura, you are not wielding Brynhildr, and a Thunder tome will not respond to silence.”

“You could just call me Sakura.” She blurts out, and then instantly regrets it. “If you w-want to!” Leo looks startled, and then smirks.

“In that case, I must insist that you respond in kind, and call me Leo.”

 

* * *

 

Leo watches her wield a Thunder: watches the electricity illuminate her face, illuminate the wonder on it. Princess Sakura seems to be captivated by magic.

Leo finds himself a little bit captivated with her, and even in the horrendous skirmish surrounding them, he watches her as he cuts down what seems like his thousandth Vallite soldier.

But his thoughts turn when she suddenly seems to lose control over the sparking tendrils in front of her – they rear backwards, about to lash at her, and –

He dives for her, avoiding both Sakura’s own traitorous magic and the Vallite soldier trying to capitalise on the opportunity to take them both down.

Somehow he manages to tug them both onto his horse, striking the soldier with his sword. Sakura’s pale, uninjured but evidently frightened at the sight of her own magic betraying her so blatantly. She shakes a little in his hold as Corrin yells at them both to retreat, pulling Nyx and Azama onto the battlefield to replace them: Leo doesn’t protest and instead kicks Freyja into a gallop, sending them back to where they’ve pitched camp.

“Wh-what…” she mumbles against his chest once they’re out of immediate danger.

“Sometimes inexperienced mages or… _onmyouji_ –“ he carefully articulates the Hoshidan word “- can lose control, and incidents like that can happen.”

“I’m s-such a – “

“Don’t,” he interjects sharply, wrapping his free arm around her tighter. “You have nothing to apologise for, or to berate yourself over. I cannot think of a mage in Nohr who has not experienced the same at one point or another.”

“And th-that includes y-yourself?”

“It does.”

Brynhildr, with a mind of its own: the old magic resisting him at every turn, thorny vines twisting up his own arms in rebellion, threatening to maim, to injure –

“L-Leo?”

“It’s nothing.” He murmurs back, still slightly lost in thought but unwilling to speak his mind. They reach the camp, and Leo dismounts, supporting the Hoshidan princess as she does the same – she’s far too used to pegasi – and almost reluctantly lets go. But Sakura shakes her head, and shyly takes his arm again: some colour’s returned to her cheeks as tendrils of pink run through them from embarrassment.

“I’m a l-little shaky on my f-feet… do you mind?”

And he hates how he turns the same shade of beet-red as he quickly shakes his head, clutching her hand (so _soft_ ) tightly in his own.

Once he’s escorted her to her tent, he sends Felicia to make a pot of green tea (Hoshidan stuff, he despises it but he knows it will please his companion) and to fetch a plate of sweets. Sakura starts to argue but his sternest, most princely look silences her.

“Tomorrow, we’ll train together.” He tells her, and she instantly shakes her head.

“I d-don’t think that’s a g-good idea…” she mumbles. “Maybe I should… n-not do magic anymore.”

“Rubbish.” Leo tells her flatly. “You’re frightened because of what happened with that Thunder tome. That’s understandable. However, I will not allow any cowardice or any cessation of your training. Tomorrow, Lady Sakura.”

And she can’t bring herself to argue with him.

 

* * *

 

The next day, at first light, he hands her the Thunder tome.

Sakura feels her hands start to shake, and looks up to argue with him, but she stops when she sees him wrap his hands around hers.

“With me.” He says, and they chant together.

The sparks of the thunder over the training fields are almost beautiful, in their own way. Sakura is mesmerised, if only briefly: then it occurs to her how close they are. His hands encircle hers around the tome’s pages; they’re practically chest to chest, the way they were on his horse.

 _That was different_ , her brain whispers. _You would have fallen off his horse if he hadn’t held you then. He doesn’t have to, now._

She thinks that over while Leo goes to fetch a different tome: _Ember_ , this one reads in its embossed letters.

“It’s a weaker version of the Fire tome.” He explains. “It won’t cause much harm if it goes wrong. I want you to wield it on your own. Anyway, learning new tomes is never wasteful, even when they’re basic ones. You’ve progressed a lot: this shouldn’t be taxing for you.”

Sakura takes the tome from him and thumbs through its pages thoughtfully.

“O-okay.” She says finally.

It’s pretty, the Ember – Sakura chants the incantation readily enough and what emerges is a ball of what almost seems like candlelight, illuminating both of their faces. While she’s secretly pleased at her success, Leo looks almost preoccupied, his face thrown into light and shadow by the spell.

“Wh-what’s troubling you?” Sakura asks, brow creasing in concern. “P-please, L-Leo.”

He presses his lips together, and sighs.

“At first, Brynhildr wouldn’t obey me.” He admits, and Sakura hates how unhappy he looks at the memory. “When I came of age, Father bestowed it upon me. It was… a lot of responsibility. I felt I had to learn to control it as soon as I could.” His eyes, normally so clear, become murky at the thought of past shadows.

“It fought back. I remember the scratches I used to have all up my arms – it would turn on me so much I often wondered if they’d ever heal.” He smiles, but it’s bitter. “So I was thinking that it was rather hypocritical of me to chastise you for being scared over losing control over your magic. For a while, I wouldn’t even hold Brynhildr.”

“It’s o-okay.” She murmurs, and puts a hand on his arm; the metal of the armour is uncomfortably cold, but she doesn’t move away. “Wh-what changed?”

“My tutor, Lady Anastasia.” He tells her. “She was a noblewoman, and a powerful witch. She taught me most of what I know about magic: first and foremost, that to wield magic properly, you must not fear it.”

“What h-happened to her?”

“Father had her put to death.” He replies emotionlessly. “He never liked nobles getting too much influence. Lady Anastasia’s magic was frighteningly strong, too, and Iago never liked her because of that.” His lip curls at the mention of the sorcerer: Sakura remembers how viciously Leo killed him when the time came: quickly and without remorse. “So she was a dead woman walking.”

She sees the dismay on his face, and doesn’t think: she pulls him into a hug.

Initially, he stiffens, and Sakura thinks she’s made a terrible mistake – but then he relaxes, and when they pull apart a minute later, his eyes are clear again.

 

* * *

 

They’ve returned to Hoshido, albeit only briefly: Corrin has sent them all here for a brief rest while remaining in Valla herself for reasons only she and Azura are privy to, tucked away from danger in a cave they scouted out the day before. Instead of remaining behind to question Corrin’s decision (as most of her siblings have done) Sakura has scoped out the tiny border town and found the market. The merchants’ eyes widen at the sight of the Nohrians, but they still give them full access to their wares - the lure of coin, as ever, too strong to resist. She sees one of Prince Xander’s retainers buy a new pair of shoes, and one of Princess Elise’s retainers buy almost everything on offer at a food stall.

The hustle and bustle of the place is close to overwhelming her senses, the shouts of the vendors and the smells of food, the onslaught of people heading this way and that, searching for books or food or other staples. She darts into a nearby shop, not even bothering to read the sign, before her gaze lights on the offerings laid out so tidily –

Scrolls. Piles upon piles of scrolls, magical and not so, whispering to her.

“What can I do for you?” the store clerk asks her. She’s a kind-looking lady, middle-aged, but her eyes are bright and sparky.

Sakura absently traces a Tiger Spirit, and contemplates how much gold she’s carrying.

She’s alone, despite Hana and Subaki’s protestations: they need rest themselves, she’d argued, and the little town isn’t likely to carry any danger, especially in their own territory. Reluctantly, they’d parted from her: Subaki with Oboro and Hana with Saizo. She’s glad they’ve found partners: being a retainer isn’t an easy task, after all, especially with all the scrapes they’ve been getting to.

So unlike usual, she has roamed around unaccompanied: various people offered to come with her, but she politely declined in favour of time to herself. She likes the solitude: being a royal, most days bring an endless stream of people: dignitaries, _daimyo_ s and, perhaps the worst of all, potential suitors, sidling up to her and offering a barrage of unwanted (and, for the most part) untrue compliments.

Sometimes, Sakura secretly despises it all.

But she casts the thought aside and instead peruses the scrolls: she finds herself picking up a Rat, an Ox, and a Horse Spirit. The store clerk smiles at her as she dumps her items on the counter to purchase and lays a Bird Spirit on top of the pile, where it teeters precariously, thrumming with the magic within it.

“On the house.” She says cheerily.

“B-but…” Sakura is touched and alarmed in equal measure. “Th-that’s too advanced for m-me…”

“Not for long.” The woman tells her, and it sounds unnerving prescient. “Not for long, Lady Sakura.”

 

* * *

 

Anankos is slain.

Even with how weary she feels, despite the tiredness seeping into her bones, she still manages to make it through most of the celebration, which lasts well into the night. She’d danced with most everyone: with her brothers and sister, with Elise, even with Lord Xander, who, she has learned, is surprisingly friendly beneath his stern exterior.

Corrin is everywhere: with Azura, with Kaze, with all her siblings. When Sakura manages to get to her amidst the throngs of celebrating soldiers, her sister offers her an exhausted-looking grin.

“Sakura!” She’s enveloped in a hug before she gets the chance to say hello. “Isn’t this wonderful.”

“It is… nice to have something to celebrate.” Sakura replies, and she would be more fervent if not for how utterly drained she is. Corrin, perceptive as she is, takes her sister’s hand and pulls them both to a quieter corner, away from the bulk of the revellers: on their way, she sees Subaki entwined with Oboro, but predictably, Saizo and Hana are nowhere to be found.

“I thought you might be with Leo.” Her older sister says, and there’s something knowing in her ruby-red eyes. “Actually, I haven’t seen him for ages. Having said that, he’s never been that fond of parties.”

Sakura feels a rush of tenderness, and tries to put it aside.

“I s-see.” She tells her sister. “A-anyway, Corrin, _thank you_.” Her gratitude spills out clumsily. “I-if you hadn’t d-done what you did, we’d all be s-still fighting, or w-worse…” Dead. Both kingdoms ground into nothingness from war. Anankos, ruler of everything.

She shakes her head to put the thoughts aside, and sees Corrin smiling.

“Yes. I think the days of war between Hoshido and Nohr are certainly over, sister.”

Sakura tries to ignore the twinkling in her eyes.

 

* * *

 

She’s headed back to her tent, energy spent, intending to retire and maybe even sleep in – after all, they have so much _time_ now – but she suddenly spots a light in the trees, a light that doesn’t belong to one of the carefully-placed lanterns that now festoon their refuge in the astral plane. Unable to help herself, she peers closer, and sees -

A bird spirit.

Sakura is entranced: it flutters around the trees, a bright spot of light amidst the dark, and she finds herself searching for the wielder, following its path this way and that, curious to see who’s wielding magic at this hour, and eschewing the party to boot.

Given that it’s a spirit, she’s expecting someone Hoshidan, but the figure that emerges in the clearing is wearing no kimono – instead, they’re wearing –

Black armour. Black circlet.

“ _Leo_.” She breathes as the bird spirit fades away into nothingness.

“Sakura.” He bows, deep and low. The unexpected display of decorum throws her for a loop: the way he seems so uncharacteristically ill at ease, even more so.

“I-is there something wrong?” she questions, moving closer.

“No, no. I mean, um. I had something I wanted to show you.” He holds Brynhildr in his hands, and she notices – part with amusement, part with worry – that his fingers are trembling ever-so-slightly, the way hers used to.

His brow furrows with concentration, and she’s about to intervene, when Brynhildr suddenly glows blindingly bright and –

Sakura flowers. Hundreds of them. All over the clearing, in her hair, even in Leo’s.

Sakura can only gape.

Leo is looking at her nervously, and the rush of affection for the Nohrian prince is almost too much to bear. She bites her lip, smiles at him shyly, and then –

Their lips meet. Tentative at first, but then more ardently.

The sakura flowers continue to bloom.

-fin-

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Seems all I can produce is LeoSaku fic haha. Think I might be a bit happier with this one? Unlike Unwritten this one was written mostly in Sakura's head, which I identify a lot more with haha compared to Leo. I might do a Birthright route LeoSaku fic for the sake of completeness. Anyway, please let me know what you thought!


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